


A Change of Heart

by xxcentaurus



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, November 20 Interrogation (Persona 5), Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21888610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxcentaurus/pseuds/xxcentaurus
Summary: On the 20th of November, Crow has a change of heart. His new mission: take care of Joker after his brutal interrogation.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 22
Kudos: 264





	1. Interrogation

**Author's Note:**

> Some Persona 5 Protagonist whump because I can never have enough h/c lmao

Akira's mind was hazy, bleary with images of thick needles pressed deep into his arms. He was in a windowless room with a dim white light that hung from the ceiling, illuminating the metal table in front of him. Akira blinked, trying to clear his head, but his senses were dulled as if a thick fog had settled over his entire body. _Sedatives_. His heart pounded against his ribcage—so loud he felt it reverberate through his eardrums. He shook his head and his vision lagged. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember why he was here in the first place. 

"Hey! No dozing off." 

A rush of cold exploded through his nerves, washing away some of his previous stupor. Akira shivered biting back a gasp. He was soaked, his skin erupted in goosebumps and his blazer hung heavy on his thin frame. He hazily watched droplets of water drip down from his bangs; had the room always been this cold? He slowly shook his head, then a blurry memory of a cat and a girl with bright orange hair flashed through his mind. 

With no warning, one of the men came forward slamming his fist into Akira's face. He groaned, while fighting his restraints. "...F-Futaba," He muttered, mostly to himself. His cheek stung and he exacerbated the already raw skin on his wrists. He had a vague memory of being dragged away in handcuffs, kicking and screaming. He remembered bright lights and a boisterous crowd, thieves who stole strange treasures, and a sly plague doctor. He was a jumbled mess, there was no way he could make sense those feverish memories. 

"Shut up," the man barked, "you're so fucking pathetic." 

He kicked Akira in the chest knocking the chair out from under him and sending him sprawling to the ground. He must have hit his head on the way down because his temple throbbed, and he felt even more disoriented than before—if that was even possible. He inched forward using his shoulder and legs and kicked at the chair to try and untangle himself from it. 

"Where do you think you're going?"

The man took advantage of his vulnerable position, stomping on his exposed chest and grinding his heel into his rib cage. Akira shrieked as his body seized in agony. He couldn't help fighting the handcuffs again, regardless of the poor state of his wrists. 

"You won't be walking out of here in one piece,” the man snarled.

How was he supposed to get out of here anyway? He closed his eyes and the darkness morphed into images of the girl and the cat again. She was smiling, standing in the streets holding a sparkler. The cat mewled and then Akira was in a dusty attic, watching as the two discussed something. Something about a _phone_. He tried his best to remember. "Akira, you have to show her the phone!" The cat pawed at his hand, a sense of urgency in his bright blue eyes. He wanted to respond, but he couldn't speak. The cat just looked up at him sadly, his ears drawn back. 

Someone kicked him hard in the stomach, bringing him back to reality. He coughed, trying his best to internalize the pain. What had he done to deserve this? The men were discussing something among themselves, then one of them came forward and stepped on his head, pushing his face into the floor. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, _phantom thief_?" 

Akira's eyes widened. His head was still a mess, but he dug deeper and deeper until he ripped through whatever was concealing his precious memories. The Phantom Thieves, the mental breakdowns, and the traitor among them. He winced, finally it was all coming back. His teammates were trusting him to carry out their plan, and when failure meant death, there was no room for mistakes. 

The man kicked him in the side, the leather of his shoe digging into the soft tissue between his ribs. Akira whimpered, dazed but pinned to reality. They weren't holding anything back. Why would they? They thought they were dealing with the terrorist responsible for the mental shut down cases. If only they knew that he had been framed, but no matter, in their eyes he was a cold-hearted criminal whose methods were not yet known, and who deserved worse than they were allowed to deliver.

The real criminal was still at large. The man in the black mask? Or—The man on the other end of Akechi's phone call. Perhaps they were the same person, that would make apprehending him easier. Akira told himself he'd catch the mastermind and make him confess all his crimes. He'd free Akechi of whatever strings that man had bound to him, and perhaps, things didn't need to be so hostile between the two of them. Akira smiled through the pain. 

"Is this some sort of sick joke to you?" The man stomped on his chest again and spat in his face.

"Ngh..." Akira couldn't hold back his groan of pain.

"That's what I like to hear." He sneered and drove his heel into Akira's ribs, drawing a desperate howl from his lips. 

The pain was blinding, shaking him to his core. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take any more hits to his left side, not with how much it hurt. To his dismay, his eyes filled with tears. His ribs were so tender, they throbbed with every breath, and he feared he might be seriously injured. He bit his lip, hoping nothing was broken. His audience only laughed at his pitiful display. The man knelt down and grabbed Akira by his collar, pulling him up then punching him in the face. His head snapped to the side, and his glasses skidded across the floor. Akira groaned quietly, sucking on his teeth to hold in the pained sounds that gurgled in his throat. He was so disoriented. Was it the drugs or the blows to his face? He couldn't remember how many times they hit him, just that his lips tasted like copper and his face stung.

“I expected a real threat, but you're just an entitled little brat," the man spat. "I'm going to break you. That's the only way you'll learn to behave." 

Akira didn’t respond. His tough act faltered, and he wondered where the hell Joker was when he needed him. He wanted to be the cunning vigilante who could talk his way in and out of anything, but his mask shattered the second the police dragged him out of the metaverse. There was only Akira, and that would have to be enough.

Justice was more than an abusable system, ruled by the wealthy. It was something that needed to be upheld. If not him, then who? He made a vow; he wouldn't bend to another's will, nor would he stand idly by when corruption polluted the air. He wondered if he'd spend his final moments in this room. His eyes were watery, and he knew, it wouldn’t be long before he was sobbing uncontrollably. He closed them for a moment, reminding himself that even if he died here, he wouldn't regret a thing.

His assailant hastily unlocked the cuffs, then rolled him over onto his back. Akira hissed; the movement exacerbated his injuries and sent him into a coughing fit. He carefully curled in on himself, one hand making its way under his shirt to hold his side. He ran his fingers over his ribs trying to massage away some of the pain. It did nothing to subdue the deep ache, but at least he didn't feel any deformities in his ribcage. Leaving him no time to recover, another man came forward and grabbed the front of his school uniform, forcing him up into a sitting position. He cried out in short gasps, leaning to the right to alleviate the pressure on his left side. 

“Sign it.” The man knelt beside him and shoved a clipboard in his face.

Akira shook his head. Framed, once again. Punished for the wrongdoings of someone who perpetuated nothing but injustice. A small spark of something akin to Joker possessed him, so he spat with all the energy he could muster. He’d live on regardless of Akira’s physical state. His eyes may have been clouded, but they were filled with the smallest bout of satisfaction when he tainted the clipboard and the man’s hand with crimson saliva. He couldn’t put it past himself to behave so foolishly. There was no reprimanding Joker— he was a beast who fought to be channeled even when Akira was nearing his limit. 

“Fine, then have it your way, I only need your hand to sign.”

Akira had no time to process the intent behind his words, instead, he felt his leg _shatter_ beneath the leather sole of the man's shoe. He screamed, gasping for breath, and struggling as if his life depended on it. He hit the man's shin over and over, thrashing beneath him. The pain was excruciating, it exploded through his thigh, right down to the bone. Finally, the man moved back, smirking and crossing his arms over his chest, though Akira paid no mind to him. He immediately felt dizzy; he held his leg with both hands, unable to hold back his tears and hoarse whimpers. "Ow, o-ow." he hissed under his breath. The concrete floor didn't give any so it was up to him. It hurt so much, and suddenly everything felt surreal. Where was he again? And what had he done to deserve so much suffering? His senses only registered pain, and his cries did nothing to alleviate it. 

“Sounds like you’re ready to confess.” The man sneered.

Akira couldn't focus. Was his leg broken? He glared down at his lap, hot angry tears dripping down his cheeks. He ran a shaky hand over his thigh, gingerly poking at the muscle. He winced. He had never broken a bone before, so he had nothing to compare it to— but this had to be the worst pain he's ever felt. He clenched his jaw, and his shoulders shook uncontrollably.

"Hey." The man waved the clipboard in his face. 

Akira tried to scoot away, but his leg flared up so badly that he didn't want to move it at all. He covered his mouth, as another dizzy spell passed over him. The pain was nauseating, there was something seriously wrong with him. 

“You’re in no state to refuse now.” The man tossed the clipboard down in front of him then threw a pen at his face. He rested his hand over Akira's thigh and gave a sharp squeeze. He screamed as darkness invaded the corners of his vision, was he going to blackout? He clawed at the man's wrist, _wailing_ as tears completely obscured his vision. He writhed, "p-please, i-it hurts— it hurts so much!" He gasped breathlessly. "I-I can't—"

“Sign it, or I’ll break your other leg too.”

The man released him, and he scribbled something illegible. He seemed satisfied with that, and without so much as a passing glance, the men left the room. The thud of the metal door echoed through the small space, and then there was silence.

Akira sniffled and took a small breath. His vision was fading again, but this time his consciousness was slipping too. He tangled his fingers in the fabric of his pants; it hurt _so_ much. He wanted to see the damage, but he was feeling so weak. He couldn't begin to imagine the array of bruising that must be littering his body by now. They were fresh wounds, red and swollen, soon to darken to black. He painstakingly dragged himself to the wall, where he rested his head. His body was in tatters. He just needed to rest for a moment.

He thought about his friends— his confidants, Doctor _Takemi_. She could surely fix him up and leave him feeling good as new. He thought of her snide remarks, feisty personality, and sweet smile. How would she react to seeing him like this though? 

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. He had to remain conscious. There was something he needed to do. He paused for a moment to think. He had to win Sae’s trust and show her his phone. That was his current mission. He let out a small sob, his cheeks wet and stained with weakness he couldn’t hold back. If he succumbed to the darkness now, he’d be leaving his fate in someone else’s hands. The traitor's face flashed through his mind next. Akechi wasn't the enemy, albeit, he did plan to kill him and had sold him out to the police. Even in the end, he cherished their time together and hoped that somehow he'd find himself on the right path. The others may have lost what little faith they had in him, but to Akira, Akechi had a strong sense of justice and had just lost his way. 

The time they spend together had to mean something. 

Akira's eyelids fell heavily, and then he couldn’t open them.

At first, he fought it, but as the pain ebbed away so did his desire to stay awake. He was at his limit. It was up to Akechi now, whether he liked it or not. 

* * *

“Your little interrogation isn’t happening.” The guard said.

"Excuse me?" 

Goro bounded after Sae, his hands behind his back. “What seems to be the matter Sae?” If things were to go as planned, Goro expected her to interrogate the leader of the Phantom Thieves before he made his move. Though, he wondered how she’d react upon hearing the news that her own sister served as their tactician. He laughed lightheartedly.

“He’s unconscious, sorry to disappoint.”

His eyes widened for a moment, but before anyone could notice his reaction he slipped behind his mask. Goro begged Loki to close his hands around his heart, to allow him to see reason again. It was merely surprising to hear, he couldn’t allow himself to hold any feeling for that national threat, for _Kurusu_. Why was he unconscious though? Did the guards hurt him? Goro swallowed, his hands becoming clammy. He'd be more than hurt soon enough, so it didn't matter. Besides, who was he to force confessions from unwilling targets? He was practically asking to be arrested— Goro had only sped up the process.

“I was told I’d be given the chance to question him, I want to get to the bottom of this—“ Her eyes darted to the side, narrowed and cold as he had grown accustomed to. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m just here to assist with the interrogation.” Goro shrugged. "The Phantom Thieves case is mine now." He chuckled. 

"They handed it over to you?"

"It seems that way," he smiled. "I am the one who apprehended him after all." 

His heart pounded so loudly he could hear it in his ears. He despised how nervous he was because it meant he lacked confidence, and confidence was the key to following through with what needed to be done. He bit his lip, his eyes wandering to the heavy metal door only a few feet in front of him. He was mere meters away, but somehow the walk to the door felt like a marathon. His time with the Phantom Thieves and their cunning leader was almost up, yet a small part of Goro wondered if it really was just a simple facade. He reasoned that he hadn’t even shown them his true self, only his false, upbeat personality. Yet somehow, it felt deeper than that. At least, the connection he'd formed with Kurusu felt oddly genuine. He could admit that ending his life was not something he'd do without cause; Kurusu was kind and had he not gotten in Goro's way, he would have been able to continue _existing_. Yes, Kurusu existing. What a humbling thought. 

“No use interrogating someone who can’t even answer your questions, right Niijima?" The guard sounded impatient, but for what? All that awaited him was a cruel death.

Goro shuddered. Akira was such a selfless person— helping others without a second thought, pretending to care about the feelings and trauma of mere garbage human beings. Goro was, of course, referring to himself. He pondered those nights where he'd lay in Kurusu's bed, the other on the ground in a heap of blankets, and they'd discuss anything that came to mind. His thought back to their many games of pool, and frequent outings to cafes, restaurants, and tourist attractions. Akira deserved to be alive, didn't he? It was Goro who should be laying face down in a pool of his own blood. But life was cruel, his vengeance was his top priority. He repeated this sentiment over and over, reminding himself this was the best option with the highest success rate.

“I am to be informed at once when he awakens and is ready to talk. This is was my case, and I will see it to the end.” Sae turned and began making her way to the elevator. 

"Alright, I'll let you know if anything changes, but it's doubtful." 

Goro listened to the click of her heels. He waited until he heard the elevator door close, ensuring there’d be no conflict of interest. Sae could be hardheaded, though he was sure she’d never be able to predict his next move.It would be over soon enough, whether he liked it or not. He sighed, balling his hands into fists. The Phantom Thieves were an interesting detour, but Goro couldn’t stray from his destination any longer. Akira’s smile flashed through his mind, and something vile gurgled in his esophagus. He wretched, bracing himself against the wall as his hand flew to his stomach.

“Are you alright?”

"Just escort me, will you? I am dealing with a murderer!" 

There was no turning back, but deep within him, he began to re-evaluate the actions he’d take upon entering the room. The cold and calculating detective within him shrieked that the moments they shared were irrelevant, and all that mattered was his own agenda. Nevertheless, his hand shook as he turned the doorknob.

* * *

_“Honey I’m home!”_

_Goro glances towards the entrance of the alleyway cafe. “You’re back awfully late.”_

_“So I am,” Kurusu quips back. “Sorry to leave you all alone with the kids, the last thing I want is for them to grow up with an estranged father.”_

_He shakes his head and a genuine smile tugs at his lips. It’s difficult for him to express even the simplest vulnerabilities, yet somehow when he was around Kurusu it was so much less taxing._

_“Ah yes, of course,” Goro takes his hand between the two of his own. “Nor do I wish for my beloved husband to stray too far from my embrace,” he pouts playfully._

_Kurusu makes him a coffee then slides into the seat beside him. His dark eyes wander Goro’s paperwork absentmindedly, and he rests his head in his outstretched arms. Such an average boy, so easy to overlook— is what he’s sure Kurusu wishes for him to believe. With an untrained eye perhaps the feat would be simple, but when Goro’s gaze lands on him he sees a boy with strong resolve._

_“You don’t need those to see.” It’s not a question since the disguise seems obvious to Goro; they serve to hide the fire in his eyes. He’s seen Kurusu flawlessly maneuver LeBlanc, his glasses hanging on the front of his apron, as he’s seen Joker do the same in the cognitive world._

_“How perceptive.” Kurusu pushes his glasses up to sit atop his head. “But you can’t deny how stylish they are, can you Detective?”_

_“Personally?” Goro pauses, awaiting his full attention, “I prefer to have a better view of your eyes. They’re rather gorgeous, if I may say. Such exquisite shades of greys and blues, unlike anything I’ve seen before.”_

_He flushes, pulling his glasses back onto his face and shying away some. It was adorable really. “S-stop it, you’re just trying to catch me off guard.” His laugh sounds anxious._

_“I only speak the truth, you’re much more than meets the eye.”_

_“As are you, Mr. Detective Prince.”_

* * *

Once inside, he realized had to act. The time was now— he couldn't let himself dwell on the feelings Kurusu managed to elicit from him. They were enticing, comforting even, but Akira's justice strayed too far from his own, and his proper revenge would be impossible with the Phantom Thieves looming over him. The moment the door closed behind them, he ripped the pistol from the guard's belt, and a shot of adrenaline raced through him. His goal was fresh in his mind when he squeezed the trigger.

The bullet hit its mark and the guard’s body crumpled.

Blood pooled below him, but Goro couldn’t spare even a fleeting glance, his focus was stolen by Kurusu, beaten and unconscious. A pang of worry struck his chest and he lurched forward, nearly dropping the gun in the process. His previous confidence crumbled before him, and only worry was operating his system. 

“Y-you,” he trailed off, breaking into a short jog to close the space between them. The closer he got the weaker he felt, so he settled with sinking to a kneel next to his target. Goro’s hands shook. He gritted his teeth, biting back a screech. It would be easiest to do it now when he didn’t have to look into those soft, knowing eyes. Besides, Kurusu looked like he needed someone to put him out of his misery. Goro let out a hoarse laugh, then slowly lifted the gun so it was aligned with his head. "This is your own fault, don't blame me for your early demise." 

He pressed the silencer against Kurusu’s temple, his index finger over the trigger. "This is how your justice ends." 

* * *

_A gunshot rings out._

_Crow moves with inhuman speed, slamming his body into Joker’s and knocking him to the ground. The first thing he registers is the pain in his abdomen, then his eyes are on the stunned look on his teammate’s face. Teammate, he smiles to himself in delirium. He likes the sound of that. He likes being a Phantom Thief, even if it is just a disguise. He likes the way they rely on him, and the way he tentatively relies on them. His mind continues to wander, but his vision escapes him. The next thing he knows is he’s weightless, and his head is tucked into the crook of Joker’s neck. For the first time in ages, he feels like he can let his guard down. Ironic as it is, he’s in the depths of Mementos, a bullet in his side, and Crow wants to close his eyes. He feels oddly safe. In Joker’s strong embrace._

_“Panther, diarahan, now!”_

_He smells sweet and flowery, and Crow can’t help but nuzzle closer. He isn’t sure why Joker is holding him like a blushing bride, but the cold detective who he expects to reprimand him for enjoying the contact is nowhere to be found. He smiles to himself, his eyes half-lidded yet hyper-focused on Joker’s strong jaw._

_They’re in the back of the Mona bus now, and Crow absentmindedly runs his fingers over his side. The wound is gone, but there’s a ghostly sting where the bullet pierced his skin._

_“Why did you do that?”_

_Crow keeps his eyes on the window, focusing on the dark spidery scenery— on anything but Joker. “I’m sorry, but what are you talking about dear Leader?”_

_He’s quiet for a moment, and Crow hopes he stays that way. His cheeks flush pink under his crimson mask. “You saved me.”_

_“So I did.”_

_“Thank you, your sacrifice means a lot,” Joker’s hand is on his shoulder, and suddenly his entire body erupts in flames, “but please, cherish yourself in the future, Crow.”_

* * *

He felt a small tug on his sleeve, that managed to pull him from his thoughts. “A-Akechi?”

Goro dropped the gun, watching as it clattered to the floor. He made his decision. It was impulsive and driven by the feelings that treaded softly through his heart. He couldn’t ignore the vulnerabilities and weaknesses he gained since unconsciously opening himself to Kurusu. Goro growled under his breath, shrugging away from Kurusu’s weak hold on his blazer. There was something about him that made his heart clench, and his stomach twisted painfully in his gut. He didn't want this to be their final moment together— their potential was endless if Goro left the gun where it had fallen. There had to be another way. 

Kurusu’s eyes were unfocused, but he turned his head to face him. “I-I failed,” he muttered quietly, “and now you’re here, t-to kill me."

“Of course you fucking knew,” Goro narrowed his eyes, though a part of him wasn’t surprised in the slightest. He knew not to underestimate the Phantom Thieves, let alone their leader. Even now, his face bruised and bloody, his will was undying and his aura continued to shine brightly. He illuminated the small space with the courage Goro needed to push himself forward. 

“What can I-I say,” Kurusu offered a half-lidded smile, “you and my a-anthropomorphic cat both seem to love delicious pancakes.”

So it was in that moment they caught on— “Foiled again,” Goro tried to sound playful, but he couldn't suppress his grimace. He wanted to lighten the atmosphere, but instead, a wave of reality washed over him. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, realizing just how far gone he really was. There were no orders to follow, no directions to guide him. His next move— no, the Phantom Thieves’ next move, was his to enact. He wracked his mind for a solution. His goal was obvious: to escort his target-turned-precious-package to a safe location.

"A-And Futaba bugged your... phone." 

“You knew this was bound to happen, and you couldn't think of a way to avoid capture?” He seethed. "Ridiculous! Look at yourself, you would have been dead by now if I hadn't," he trailed off, unable to think of the right words. "If I hadn't—"

"If you hadn't... what...?" Kurusu grinned, pushing his luck as usual.

Goro sighed deeply, "realized I made a mistake I suppose,” he paused, “no matter, there’s been a change of plans, I’m getting you out of here.” It was as simple as that. Shido was revolting— he was undeserving of even being among the living, let alone his current political prospects. Of course, Goro would choose Kurusu over his father every time— but if that was really the case, then why had he nearly convinced himself to kill him? Masayoshi Shido may very well be the only person he hated more than himself.

Goro grabbed Kurusu’s forearm. He paid little mind to the abrasions on his wrists and the dark bruising on his face, because seeing them filled him with guilt. Had he known he was going to change his mind earlier, perhaps he could have intervened before those brutes hurt him like this. He couldn't dwell on it though, changing the past was impossible, and ridiculous to even think about. "Can you stand?" 

Kurusu looked sheepish but far too tired, “I-I don't think so.” 

"What the fuck did they do to you?" Goro asked, his crimson eyes reflecting his sudden rage. Kurusu was the nicest person he'd ever met. No one should ever lay a hand on him— but it was all Goro's fault, wasn't it? He was conflicted, unsure where to direct his anger. He took a deep breath, he could play the blame game later, besides, he already knew he was the winner.

Kurusu shook his head. "I-it's fine, b-but my ribs... and my right leg hurt... a lot... and I feel like I'm going to... pass out." 

Of course, he'd preface with stupid reassurance, but Goro wasn't buying it. "There is absolutely nothing _fine_ about any of that." He scanned Kurusu quickly, taking note of how he held himself. “I'll carry you,” he offered. 

"I-I don't know," Kurusu's eyes were brimming with tears, and Goro's heart nearly stopped. When he blinked they slid down his cheeks, landing pitifully in his lap. Goro had never seen him like this— struggling to stay composed, tear stains streaking his cheeks. Kurusu's shoulders shook and he covered his eyes with one hand, letting out a quiet sob. He never wanted to see him broken like this, he was supposed to be the strong one— always putting others back together. Goro bit back a screech.

“I-I think my leg is broken,” Kurusu trailed off for a moment, his hand carefully resting over his thigh, “but I still have so much I-I need to do.”

“Worry about that later. Just, try to take deep breaths or something.” Goro tried to sound consoling, but it was difficult to even acknowledge Kurusu while he was in this state. It was heart-wrenching, and he hated it with every ounce of his being. He took a few deep breaths of his own, his mind searching for a course of action. He had to make this right. Kurusu was clearly in no condition to make a daring escape, so it would be up to him to ensure both of their safeties.

His eyes landed on the guard, whose body lay by the door. Finally an idea. Goro stole the baton from his belt, then hurried back. “I’m going to fix you up as much as I can, just bear with me. It isn't going to be pleasant, but we have to get you out of here.”

Kurusu's head lolled against his shoulder and the wall. A small smile tugged at his lips for a moment. "I knew you wouldn't..." he trailed off, "I-I knew I meant something... to you." 

Goro's cheeks heated up at those honest words. He shook his head, focusing back on the task at hand. He loosened his tie with shaky fingers, then pulled it from his neck. He'd have to make some sort of makeshift split to keep Kurusu's leg as still as possible, in case it really was broken. He reached for his belt, undoing it then pulling it from the belt loops. 

“Hey, at least... t-take me on a date first, Detective,” His speech was slightly slurred, but his devious grin said it all.

“Now is not the time!” He moved closer and lined up the baton with Kurusu’s leg. His cheeks were rosy, and he hated himself for it. "Just be quiet please, doctor's fucking orders." Goro carefully moved his hand under his thigh near his knee to help him raise it. “Can you lift your leg a bit?" 

Kurusu obeyed. He started to bend his knee, but the moment he began lifting his leg from the ground he whimpered. "Yes, that's it," Goro said, moving his tie and belt underneath the swell of his thigh. 

“Ow—A-Akechi." 

"That's all I need from you,” Goro reassured as he lowered Kurusu's leg back down, and lined up the baton. “I just need to secure it now.”

He wrapped the belt through the metal clasp to keep it in place. Kurusu cried out, pushing his forehead into Goro's shoulder. “Quiet down Kurusu,” he wasn't very good at comforting others, and frankly this wouldbe easier if he was silent. 

"Ngh..." his face was contorted in pain, and his eyes were watery. 

Goro glared down at Kurusu's leg, his grip on the belt tightened. He couldn't believe this was really happening. Did he really cause this? No— this wasn't his fault, it couldn't be! Kurusu was the one who got himself into this mess if he had just kept his head down, he would be _fine_. His probation would have been over in half a year, and he could go back to whatever small town he came from. He wouldn't be here, bruised and bloodied, practically lying in Goro's arms. He was seething with rage, seeing Kurusu like this pushed him overboard, and he was in the midst of drowning. He pulled on the belt with more force than necessary, wanting to punish him for even awakening his persona in the first place— Kurusu’s breath hitched and he cried out. The sound was drawn out and hoarse, he sounded like he was in so much pain. 

"A-Akechi!" He wailed, tears welling in his eyes. "y-you're h-hurting me," he sobbed. "I-it hurts..." 

Goro instantly felt bad. What was wrong with him? This was supposed to be a half-baked rescue mission, he shouldn't have worsened Kurusu's injury like that. “Akira, just, hush please.” He paused, was that the first time he's used Kurusu’s given name? It wasn't the time or place to wonder about that, besides Kurusu wouldn’t even look at him, he just continued to sob into his hands, his head lowered. “I’m almost done, just sit still.”

With a worried sigh disguised as annoyance, he wrapped his tie higher on Kurusu’s thigh. He made sure to tie it tight but tried to be extra gentle. Kurusu was less vocal about his discomfort this time, but the way his shoulders shook as he covered his face was enough to spark nauseating sympathy. 

“Thanks,” His voice was meek, laced with vulnerability and pain.

Goro could hardly comprehend the bubbling feeling that grew in his chest. It was rage at those responsible, but also something soft and protective. “H-here,” Goro didn’t mean to stutter. “I’ll help you up, let's get out of here.”

“Let’s escape to the Metaverse,” Kurusu moved his hands away from his face; his eyes were filled with the determination Goro was worried he’d lost during the brutality. “We didn’t really steal her treasure, w-we should still be able to access…”

"Sae's Palace." Goro inputted the keywords, then allowed the distortion to carry them to the cognitive world. He dismissed his clunky mask and smoothed the front of his princely garment. His crimson eyes landed on Joker, who shot him a sly grin. He made the right decision, without a shadow of a doubt.

* * *

The Metaverse instilled a certain strength within him; moving forward was less of a struggle, and with the help of Crow, pushing his aching body to a hesitant stand was now feasible. He leaned against the cold concrete, fighting against the heavy drag of his coat. Crow had his arm across his shoulders, and a steady hand on the small of his back. He shied away, turning to look at the wall to hide his weak display. “I-I’m fine, don't look at me, l-like that,” He said through clenched teeth.

He never wanted any of his friends to see him like this— helpless and barely hanging on. He'd hate to see their worried faces; he wasn't worth their sadness. Akechi was an entirely different story. He was humiliated. “You’re not fine, and it's fucking obvious.” Crow ducked under his arm again, pulling him from the wall. “I’ve got you, my dear Leader.” There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone. 

Joker knew Crow was right. His right leg couldn’t bear any weight, even just having it off the ground made him queasy. He leaned heavily on Crow as they made their way through the vacant facility, whimpering quietly when his pace exceeded his own. To their relief, there didn’t seem to be any shadows in this part of the Palace. If they decided to make an appearance, he knew he’d have to rely entirely on Crow to defend him. The thought was shameful at best, but there was no way he’d be capable of holding his own in a fight.

It was difficult to keep going; his head spun and breathing had been difficult ever since he sustained damage to his ribs. The hallway looked to be disoriented, then he blinked and it returned to its regular shape. He really wasn’t doing very well, he grimaced. How could he continue like this? Would they even be able to escape undetected? His breathing sped up, anxiety coiling around his battered chest. If he did manage to return to the other thieves, would he even be any use to them? He imagined their expressions, filled with pity. How could they believe in the team, when their own leader could barely stand. He'd have to hide this from them, it would just hinder them anyway—

“Hey, you’re going to be fine.” The hand on his hip gave a small squeeze. Crow looked at him with only determination etched on his face. Joker couldn’t help but recognize a certain sense of sincerity in his expression. “You better not give up, I promise I'll get you to safety." 

"O-okay." 

The hallway twisted and turned, and Joker felt himself lose his footing. Crow’s grip tightened as he changed positions to better support him. “We have to keep going, come on.” He gave a tug, accidentally pulling Joker against him and bumping into his injured leg with his own.

Joker's vision spun.

He stumbled and fell forward, his knees slamming into the floor on his way down. Pure _agony_ shot through his thigh. He screamed until his lungs burned and he could only whimper. It was _excruciating_. 

“Joker!” Crow called to him, but he sounded so far away. 

All he could do was hold his leg with both hands, desperately massaging at the muscle in an attempt to lessen the pain. Nothing he did made it any more bearable. He sobbed, his vision blurry with hot tears. It was pitiful. He hated that he was crying again, and his audience only made it worse. He wanted to be put out of his misery. 

“Joker!” Crow’s hand was on his shoulder, his voice frantic. “Oh my fucking god!”

“I-I’m…” his eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he choked on tears. He swallowed thickly, “I-I can't... do this.”

“Shut up.” Crow moved his hand to his head, carefully petting his hair. "You can fucking do anything." 

Joker leaned into his touch. His eyelids were heavy again, and he couldn’t help but let them close. His shoulders shook and he stopped holding back the raw emotion that fought against his weak composure. He cried out, choking on pained and desperate sobs. They wracked his body, and he couldn't stop shivering. For a moment he wanted to die, but an image of his friends crossed his mind, and he knew that wasn't an option. 

"Hey, j-just quiet down, you'll be alright,” Crow started, hesitant and half-heartedly.

“I-It hurts, s-so much,” He shivered, his fingered tangled in the fabric of his pants.

Joker felt Crow's hand in his hair, then on his back, rubbing slow circles. It was soothing, in a strange, uncomfortable way. Crow stiffened, but continued, his hand moving up again to caress his bruised cheek. Sharing these small intimacies was odd since they would usually only behave affectionately to humour one another. But Crow’s sympathy and gentle touches felt genuine, and Joker knew the relationship they shared was more than fake pleasantries. Crow was more than just a devious traitor, he had to be.Joker never stopped believing that there was good in Crow. He wandered down the wrong path because it was the only one he knew. Hearing him talk about his past made it clear, Goro Akechi was a victim of an unfair system, and Joker could only wish they had met earlier. 

“I’ve got this from here." 

"I-I trust... you." 

"Idiot." 

His body protested when Crow slid an arm under the back of his knees and around his slender back. It hurt to be touched, let alone moved, but when he lifted him and cradled him close to his chest, Joker felt weightless.“This is my fault.” He spat as they made their way to the elevator. “When I thought back to that day in Mementos when my body moved on its own, desperate to keep you safe. I knew I couldn’t follow through with his plan, nor my own.”

Joker nuzzled into the crook of Crow’s neck. He smelt of blood and sweat, and there was a hint of his musky cologne. Joker's eyes shut again. He hummed in response.

“I should have realized earlier. You’re my greatest chance of stopping Shido, even if I can't get the kind of revenge I desire. You thieves don't aim to kill, and perhaps I can learn to be satisfied with that. I know now, revenge means nothing if you hurt someone you c-care about in the process. I-I should have believed in you from the beginning. Even now, I don’t know where the hell we stand with each other, but maybe I can continue to work with you, as a member of the Phantom Thieves.”

Joker tried to offer a small smile, but he felt his consciousness slipping. He would like Crow to be a legitimate member of his team. That would make him, _happy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	2. Aftermath

Goro exited the Metaverse, then immediately darted into a nearby alleyway to catch his breath. His princely attire vanished, and with it, his strength and ability to push forward. He dumped Kurusu rather unceremoniously on the pavement, then hovered above him for a moment. His breathing was labored and he was hardly conscious. He looked so vulnerable and defenseless, a strange and unpleasant combination.

"Hey, can you hear me?" 

No response.

Perhaps he could at least try to help Kurusu get a little more comfortable. It was the least he could do for his suffering, dare he say, _friend_. Goro shed his coat, folded it then carefully slide it under his head. He paused for a moment with his gloved hand on Kurusu's cheek. He examined the bruises littering his face, then decided it would be best to make sure he didn't have any serious head injuries. Goro's hand shook a bit when he ran his fingers through Kurusu's thick, curly hair. He imagined it was soft, but he didn't have the courage to remove his glove. That would be far too intimate. 

Once he was sure Kurusu wasn't in immediate need of medical attention, Goro began going over his options. He could try to carry Kurusu to his apartment; it was only a few subway stops away from the courthouse, but the notion of dragging a severely injured person onto public transportation was unrealistic at best. He wondered if he should just call a cab, then off the driver in the Metaverse to cover his tracks— no, while it was tempting, he wanted to do things Kurusu's way. The Phantom Thieves don't kill, especially not for their own gain. What self-righteous do-gooders he scoffed. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Sae Niijima. He paled, then he was struck with an idea. It was risky and involved trusting another person, which of course Goro did not want to do, but it was a chance he had to take. "Hey Sae, are you alone?" 

"Akechi—what, yes I am I'm in the parking garage. Any update on the Phantom Thieves case?" 

"About that," he paused for a moment, "you probably fucking hate me, but I need your help. I fled the station and I have the Phantom thief with me—" 

"—Are you serious?" Sae said, in disbelief.

"Listen, you're going to have to stay calm, and trust me." He inhaled sharply. "It's Kurusu from the stupid Cafe— he is innocent just ask your sister, ask Makoto." 

"What does any of this have to do with Makoto? I am a law-abiding prosecutor, there is no way I'd even consider helping you—"

"Well, this may come as a huge fucking surprise, but she's actually a Phantom Thief too." 

"How dare you— is this your idea of a joke?"

"Please Sae, don't you want to question him?" Goro tensed. This was not going as he had hoped, but it could be worse. "Please, I'm fucking begging you, please Sae. I'll send you my location, come as quickly as you"— she hung up. "What a piece of shit! goddammit!" 

Not even five minutes later, his phone buzzed. _I talked to my sister, I'll come to get you._ So trusting others wasn't the worst thing in the world. 

While Sae had proven to be an asset, there was one more phone call he had to make. 

* * *

The car ride was bumpy and Goro couldn’t help but wonder how Kurusu was fairing. He was hardly lucid, laying across the passenger seat with it dropped back as far as it could go. Goro kept his head lowered, staring absentmindedly at the cellphone gripped tight in his hand.

“What happened in there Akechi?” Sae’s voice was tense, but Goro couldn’t blame her.

He said nothing.

Would Shido suspect him of lying when he told him they couldn’t meet in person tonight? Would he trust that Goro finished the job and cleaned up, as per usual? Or was there something different about this target that would cause him to question and prod until the truth came out? He swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the pounding in his chest. Their call had lasted no more than two minutes, but by the end of it, anxiety had strung him up by his neck. 

“Akechi—”

“What the fuck do you want me to say goddammit?” He exploded, unable to hide behind his mask of nonchalance.

There was no use for it here; for the first time, he could be his true self in front of Sae, whether she liked it or not. He felt exposed, like every ounce of his being was being burned to a crisp by some malicious higher power. He had no plan or scheme, no idea how he was going to make this work. He was a lousy detective who created the mental shutdown cases, then closed them incorrectly— over and over until he believed perhaps he was grand, grander than the Phantom Thieves. He was nothing, less than nothing if that was even possible. His heart had been overflowing with hatred ever since his mother’s death, but for once it was mostly directed at himself. He was a fool, and if he couldn’t manage to get himself together, Shido’s victory would be inevitable.

“Did he change your heart?” Sae interrupted the short silence and nodded towards Kurusu.

Goro let out a small shriek, pulling at his hair, and kicking the back of her seat. He chided himself for throwing a fit, but his frustration and anxiety got the better of him. He wanted nothing more than to scream at the top of his lungs, until either he was arrested for causing a disturbance, or he could no longer make any sound. He raised his head, searching for the right way to answer Sae’s ridiculous question, then his eyes landed on Kurusu. He was whimpering in his dazed state, his eyes half-lidded and unseeing. Goro felt himself soften, remembering why he put himself through this hellish nightmare in the first place. He slowly, and almost reluctantly pressed his forehead against Kurusu’s shoulder. “In a way,” he paused for a moment, “I guess he did."

His eyes burned, and he knew they were brimming with angry tears. He blinked furiously, letting a few drip onto Kurusu’s blazer. He was in over his head.

“Makoto told me a few things, though she was surprised to hear that _you_ came to his rescue," she spoke dryly. "I don't understand their method, but she sounded genuine." 

Goro didn’t want to converse, he had no words for her, other than perhaps thanking her for the ride. He was really at a loss when he made the last-ditch decision to call her, but regardless, she came through for him. Was this what relying on someone felt like? A fleeting smile graced Goro's lips; it was the same as when he was working with the Phantom Thieves.

“Thank you, Sae." He grumbled, "I won't say it twice." 

“He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

Goro’s breath hitched as he tore himself away from Kurusu. “It’s not about him, it’s about my own justice,” Her question flustered him, and he didn’t fully understand why. Of course, he cared for Kurusu, according to most definitions of the word. "but," he supposed that caring for him must equate to some level of meaningfulness so perhaps he should have just said, "yes, I suppose he does." 

“You’re much less insufferable without that ridiculous Detective Prince act,” Sae shook her head knowingly. “I’m afraid tomorrow morning he’ll be back though.”

Goro rolled his eyes. “We can’t let anyone become suspicious of our treasonous behaviour, I can only hope that he’ll pull this off.” He gestured vaguely at Kurusu.

The car pulled up in front of the cafe Goro had become so accustomed to visiting.

* * *

_Goro sits in the booth closest to the door; he’s foolish to come here in the first place. Maybe it’s the delicious coffee or the peaceful atmosphere, or maybe he’s just a masochist. He can’t deny the fact that he enjoys the time he spends with Kurusu and the other Phantom Thieves; they’re kind to him and they treat him as one of their own. But little do they know. He doesn’t allow himself to feel guilt, and he prays he won’t feel remorse. Had they met a few years earlier, certainly, things would be different. He looks over at the staircase at the back of the restaurant, then shakes his head, his eyes returning to his laptop keyboard._

_The world always dealt him the worst hands, but in doing so it allowed him to unlock unforeseen power. He takes a shallow breath, his fingers tapping aimlessly at the keys. It’s his duty to take advantage of the miracle he’s been given, and unfortunately, his agenda doesn’t line up well with the morals of the Phantom Thieves._

_And so they are a means to an end—an end that Goro will sacrifice anything to ensure._

_“I thought I heard you come in.”_

_He raises his head and offers Kurusu a coy smile. “Ah well, Leblanc certainly has the best coffee.”_

_“And here I thought you just wanted to see me.” He pouts, but there’s an ounce of mockery hidden in his tone. Kurusu slides into the seat across from him, resting his arms on the table._

_Goro is thoroughly amused. “I saw you just yesterday, we made progress on Sae’s palace. Or have you forgotten?”_

_“Of course not, you wish I was that unperceptive.” His glasses reflect the light above them, but every once in a while he tilts his head in a way that lets Goro get a quick glimpse of his dark, knowing eyes._

_“No, I only wish you’d let me get back to my Detective work, you know I am a very busy man.” His eyes wander to Kurusu’s jaw, then they travel down his slender neck to his strong collarbones. He chokes._

_“Care for a short conversation?” Kurusu leans over the table and closes his laptop. “You’re the one who said our discussions could prove quite fruitful. Besides, we’ve almost secured the infiltration route to Sae’s palace.”_

_Goro flushes, his instincts are urging him to remove the threat immediately. “I have to get back to work, I’m afraid—”_

_“I don’t imagine I’ll be seeing you after we change her heart.”_

_If things go according to plan, Goro shakes his head, he would never be seeing Kurusu again, that’s for sure. He tenses, refusing to meet his eyes. The bond they’ve forged is a strange one; it's built on lies, but sometimes Goro senses something more innocent. He can’t let himself focus on it though, because whenever it crosses his mind, he’s filled with confusion and what-ifs._

_“We’re more similar than you let yourself believe, Goro.” His name slides off Kurusu’s tongue and it sounds foreign. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”_

* * *

The sound of the engine died down to a quiet hum, before silencing itself completely. Akira’s vision was burry, but he managed to recognize Sae, who sat tense in the driver's seat of the vehicle. Somehow, he must have shown her the phone and earned her trust— Akechi flashed in his mind. No, it wasn't Sae who dragged him out of that wretched place. “He seems more attentive.” Sae waved her hand in front of his eyes, “Can you hear me?”

He nodded weakly.

“You’re safe, we’re at Leblanc.”

He was home at last. Akira felt any last bit of adrenaline evaporate, leaving him pained and exhausted. His injuries ached horribly, protesting against his entire existence, but he was alive and relatively safe. His eyes begun watering due to a mix of relief and pain; both sensations were overwhelming. He remembered being terrified when he awoke in the interrogation room, with Akechi’s gun pressed against his temple. Yet somehow, Akechi managed to have a chance of heart all by himself, no Phantom Thieves required.

He saved Akira. But where was he? Akira tried to sit up to look in the back seat, but Sae quickly held him down. “Careful, you’re hurt pretty badly.”

“G-Goro,” he mumbled, his voice raw and scratchy.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, then the handsome Detective Prince himself came into view. “I’m right here, I called Sae to pick us up after we left the Metaverse.”

His eyes were red and slightly swollen, but he played it off as if it were nothing. He even offered him one of his infamous TV smiles. He seemed so ingenuine. Akira narrowed his eyes, “Is something w-wrong?” 

Akechi nodded. “Just worried about some things,” he paused for a short moment, “and about you.”

Akira couldn’t help but smile, his cheeks heating up a bit in his hazy state. “I’ll be okay, this is nothing.” He put his hand over Akechi’s, giving it a firm squeeze. “No one can kill me, not even you.”

Akechi scoffed. 

“I’m going to need your help to get him inside.” Sae made her way around the vehicle and opened the passenger side door. She carefully slid under Akira’s arm, her own arm slithering behind his back to properly support him. “W-wait,” he stammered.

“Please just try to get up, I’ve got you.”

He nodded meekly, then started pushing himself up from the seat. The movement was blinding pain. He tried to force himself to transfer some of his weight to her, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. His chest hurt, and he began hyperventilating. “I-I can’t, I-I.” Before he knew it, the tears were blurring his vision again. “Ngh—”

“Akechi I need some help!”

He blinked slowly, then Akechi’s face was only inches from his own. “Grab onto me, okay?”

He nodded, wrapping his arms loosely around his neck. He pulled him from the vehicle, supporting his back and shoulders with strong arms. Akira groaned quietly, biting his lip. He kept his right knee bent, shifting his weight to his left leg, and onto Akechi. 

“Sae get one of his arms!” He felt her slide under his right arm to support him. 

Akira felt Akechi move to his left side. He supported him at his upper arm and firmly grasped his hand, taking some of his weight. He was being so cautious, he thought dreamily. How considerate. His mind kept fading in and out, and he wasn’t sure which he liked better. It was full of noise and pain, while out was calm. He imagined the smiling faces of the other Thieves. They patted him on the back, congratulating him for a mission well done. There was Akechi, smiling at him with his hands on his hips. Akira checked the time and noticed that his bloody wrists were pristine, without a single trace of the handcuffs. He was safe; there was nothing to worry about here—

“Kurusu, hey!”

The light from the cafe was harsh on his eyes, but he pried them open at the sound of his name. He blinked, trying his best to focus. Sojiro ran over to them, nearly knocking over the chair he had been on in the process. “You’re alive, the news just said— never mind that I was so fucking worried about you!” He looked Akira up and down. “Y-you're hurt.” He shook his head, becoming more frantic by the second.

Akira avoided looking at Sojiro. He didn't mean to keep him in the dark, he just needed to do this on his own. “How bad is it? We can’t exactly take him to the hospital, everyone thinks he’s dead— hell I thought he was dead ten minutes ago!”

“I-I’m sorry,” Akira offered, his eyes unfocused and watery. He felt guilty; maybe he didn't realize Sojiro would be so _worried,_ because his own parents were always so apathetic. No matter, he really owed Sojiro an apology and explanation. “I-I should have, t-told you, b-but I didn’t, cause I-I thought you’d try t-to stop me.”

“Of course I would have!” He was nearly yelling now. “You're my responsibility, you're— you're important to me kid." Sojiro shakes his head sadly. 

He hated how vulnerable he felt; listening to Sojiro, the most emotionally constipated person he knew, flat out tell him he's important, made his eyes fill with tears. He couldn't help it. "I'm s-so, sorry, I-I..." his head spun again, and he lost track of what he was saying. 

"Hey, all that matters is you're safe," Sojiro reassured. "You're looking a little worse for wear, lets get you upstairs and to bed." 

Akira felt a small smile tug at his lips. Sojiro sounded so fatherlike, it was endearing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Tae Takemi

With help from Sakura, Goro managed to get Kurusu upstairs without too much trouble. He whined a lot and dug his nails into their shoulders, but for the most part, their ascent was fine. Sakura propped up some pillows, and Goro carefully helped Kurusu lie down on his bed with his torso raised. When Kurusu unlatched himself from Goro, he thought about how he's had more physical contact with him today than throughout his entire time knowing him. Being so close to another person was foreign, even more so was Kurusu's breath on his neck while he was carrying him, through the Metaverse and just now up the stairs. He shuddered. 

“I’ll go grab some ice and call Dr. Takemi, she knows about the whole you know what— she’ll be able to help the poor kid.” Sakura shook his head, then headed back downstairs.

Goro noticed how Kurusu's eyes were closed, his lashes damp, and fluttering about on his cheeks. His chest rose unevenly beneath his school uniform, strained and laboured. He wanted to fix everything he had ever destroyed— every mistake— but it was impossible. He could only look at the consequence of his actions, of siding with Shido and betraying someone he cared about. It was time for him to leave, he had done his part and now the other Phantom Thieves would handle the rest. _Work alongside you as a member of the Phantom Thieves?_ that was a bit ridiculous, wasn't it? 

“G-Goro?” Kurusu’s eyes fluttered open. 

“W-what," Goro tried to offer him a small smile.

"You're still here."

"I can leave if you want." He didn't mean to sound defensive. 

"No, I want you... to stay, i-if you can." Perhaps it wasn't ridiculous at all. 

“Of c-course,” he stammered, his face reddening. 

Kurusu began trying to shed his school blazer, but he was having difficulty. He winced when he moved too quickly, and he couldn't seem to get his arms out. “Stop moving, you're going to hurt yourself more. I'll help you.” Goro got his arms free and tugged the jacket off. He tossed the ruined thing to the side and crossed his arms, a stern look etched into his face. 

“Thanks,” Kurusu's voice lacked its usual confidence, but at least he was no longer in tears. That wasn't something he ever wanted to see again. It made Goro want to punch him or toss him into a fire, though in hindsight those weren't typical reactions to seeing someone crying. 

"Sakura said he’d call your doctor, so you’re going to be okay." He paused, then very lightly shook his shoulder. "Goddamnit, I was so fucking worried about you!” He couldn't hold back his own emotions. He'd been doing it for so long, and he'd had enough. For a moment, he didn't care how he was perceived, only that his feelings were being displayed. "You're an idiot you know that? You let yourself get caught— I amost killed you! I almost lost you— I-I simply could not have that!" 

“Hm?” Kurusu struggled with his belt, his eyes unfocused and his pupils dilated. “t-this is the real you talking?”

Goro shook his head, and carefully sat on the edge of the bed. “Of course it fucking is, your friends all believe in you, and so do I.” He stiffened, unsure if he was ready to speak so truthfully. He wrung his hands together and sighed, “actually, forget I said anything, I hate you.”

“I think I'd rather remember.” Kurusu started to inch his pants down while keeping his right leg as still as possible. He whined and bit his lip. "A-and, I love you too." 

Goro ignored him, though he felt his cheeks heat up at his stupid comment. "Here, stop moving so much, idiot." Kurusu had already undone the front of his pants, so he tugged at his waistband and carefully slid them off. He was mindful of his injuries, not wanting to exacerbate them. 

"Next time, I'll be the one undressing you, detective." 

"Shut up you're delirious." 

Kurusu shifted around a bit, then tried to pull the sheets over his lower half to hide, but Goro pushed them aside out of his reach. "I'm cold," he complained, but Goro wanted to stare at the deep bruising that marred his thigh. His eyes narrowed and he almost let a snarl leave his lips as his eyes traced the dark purples and blues that covered his pearly skin. The bruising faded out into sickly yellow around the outer and inner part of his thigh; Goro swallowed nervously. It looked _bad_. It was especially dark around the center and it was really swollen compared to his left leg. 

Goro was so focused that it didn't even cross his mind that he was probably being a bit invasive, he just couldn't look away. “That looks really bad.” He thought to when he pulled on the belt— he hadn't pulled that hard had he? He just wanted to punish Kurusu for getting himself into so much trouble, and for letting himself get so badly injured. Goro was a fool. He narrowed his eyes watching the way he tensed from the pain. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I shouldn't have been so rough bad there."

Kurusu didn't seem to know what he was talking about, and perhaps that was for the better. He looked up at him with bleary eyes. "It's okay." 

“Get ice on that immediately.” Sakura interrupted as he came upstairs, holding a first aid kit, a bowl of soapy water with some cloths, and a couple of large icepacks wrapped in thin towels. 

“S-Sojiro—I-It’s really not that bad, n-no need to…worry about me.” Kurusu shook his head. He was trying so hard to be strong, it was pitiful. He took an ice pack and held it against his thigh, then immediately winced, his eyes filling with tears. "Ow, ow..." 

“Stop lying to make things easier for other people," Goro said bluntly. "You spout your sentimental crap about supporting each other, but the second anyone tries to help you, you push them away." It really wasn't the time for this, but he couldn't stop the words from coming out. "I hate when you act like it doesn't matter if you get hurt, or like you're fucking expendable." 

“G-Goro.” He softened slightly when Kurusu used his given name. "P-please." 

"He has a point kid," Sojiro said, crossing his arms. "You've been through hell. If there's anything you need, don't be afraid to ask." 

Kurusu nodded, but he wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. "There is one thing, p-please don't tell Futaba—or anyone. T-they don't need to know, t-that I'm..." He trailed off. _Hurt?_ Battered to the core? 

Sojiro shook his head. "Fine, it's not my place to say anything anyway. I will spare them the details." 

Goro took an ice pack and wrapped it in an old towel. He sat on the edge of the bed like a dotting mother, and lifted Kurusu’s shirt; the molten purples and blues wrapped around his ribcage and side, fading out across his ashy skin. He looked so frail and broken, and Goro hated it. He carefully pressed the icepack to his side, before Kurusu opted to hold it there himself. 

“Do you think you could patch him up Akechi?” Sakura rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sure he’d rather one of his friends helping out than this old man.” 

Did Kurusu even consider himself friends with Goro after everything that happened? He wasn’t nearly as close to him as the other Phantom Thieves—though he did want to change that. All those get-togethers must have meant something to someone as sentimental and foolish as him. Kurusu looked for the good in people, even when it was buried beneath so much self-hatred and pain. He'd soon learn, if he hadn't already, that the detective prince he thought he knew, was only a facade. Goro was a hideous beast, his true form shrouded in darkness and rage, but at his core, he sought justice. Just like Kurusu. There were many things he’d do over in a heartbeat, but he knew he couldn’t alter the past. He’d just have to try to make better decisions starting now. Getting Kurusu out of that dreaded interrogation room was his first step towards being someone he could be proud of.

Maybe, he didn’t need to fight alone anymore.

A small smile found it’s way to Goro’s lips. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

"Alright, I'll be downstairs, don't be afraid to call me if you need anything." 

Goro took Kurusu’s hand into his own, then he began carefully cleaning his wrist with a facecloth. He avoided the lacerations as much as he could, but he still felt Kurusu tense under his touch. Goro bit his lip, sympathy bubbling in his stomach. He looked so fragile. For the first time, he seemed capable of being hurt beyond repair. Sometimes he convinced himself that Kurusu was unkillable or untouchable. He always stayed true to himself, and the bonds he shared with the other Thieves empowered him. He never turned away in the face of adversity, and he acted as a sort of beacon. but in the end, he was only human. 

"I'm sorry, I don't want to push you away." 

"I don't care," Goro said quickly.

"Yes, you do."

Kurusu refused to look at him as he coated his wounds in antibiotic cream, and wrapped his wrists with bandages. He probably felt self-conscious, but to Goro, there was nothing to be ashamed of. He didn’t see him as inferior because of this, only as someone he wanted to protect. He cringed at his thought process, but he couldn’t deny that it was the truth. The moment he saw Kurusu, beaten, and unconscious in that room, something changed in him. What kind of justice would he have obtained, had he killed the only person who treated him with kindness?

"So what?" 

"I don't want to be seen like this— I don't want to be," he thought about his words carefully, "not okay, in front of others." 

Goro scoffed. "Your hero complex won't let you?" He was teasing, but there was some truth in his comment. 

"It's not like that," he shook his head. "I'm supposed to be the one taking care of my friends, o-of other people," he paused, "of you."

Goro's face suddenly felt hot, but he responded without missing a beat. "Have you ever heard of equivalent exchange?" He offered Kurusu a smug grin. “How about you let me clean your face?”

Kurusu nodded. Goro moved up on the bed, their hips almost touching. He dipped the cloth in the warm soapy water and began cleaning away the blood and grime. “The ones here are not so deep, seems like the blood is mostly from your nose,” he said, as he gently wiped Kurusu’s face. Luckily he didn’t need to rub too hard, he didn't want to cause him more pain. “Mostly just bruising and abrasions.”

Goro examined his patient, his lips drawn into a frown. His cheek was gashed, so he moved closer to carefully apply a bandage. He smoothed it down with his thumb, his hands shaking slightly due to their proximity and the uncomfortable atmosphere that began filling the room. He was cupping Kurusu’s cheek— they were way too close. His heart pounded quickly in his chest, then Kurusu looked up at him with his innocent eyes. They were swollen and red, but they still held their usual mystery and awe. 

Kurusu’s cheeks were flushed and he had a sort of sultry look on his face. He reached up and placed his hand over Goro’s, then he started leaning forward. What was he doing? Was there something wrong with him? Goro began hyperventilating slightly, his face hot and rosy.

“Rise and shine Guinea Pig, heard you got into some trouble—oh, am I interrupting something?” The doctor had arrived, and just in time. Goro pulled his hand away, then scurried to the other side of the room.

“No not at all, I was just— I was checking his injuries.” Why was he so embarrassed? Why couldn’t he form proper sentences? This simply wasn’t like him. Besides, it wasn’t like Kurusu was going to lean in and kiss him. It had only felt that way, which was why he was so skittish. It must have been the drugs that were still coursing through his system; he wouldn’t hold it against him, nor would he allow himself to dwell on it.

"Oh, I see, kissing him better huh?" She teased. "That's not the medicine I practice, but I'm sure it has its own _special_ healing properties." 

"N-No absolutely not—"

“Goro Akechi,” she smirked her hands on her hips. “You’ve said a lot of shit about the Phantom Thieves. I wouldn’t have expected to find you here fraternizing with their Leader.”

“We are... aquainted— friends?” He glanced over at Kurusu who had his head lowered, facing away.

“Alright, don’t go anywhere, I’ll need your help.” She pushed a large bag into his arms, then waltzed over to the bed. “My poor little Guinea Pig.”

She got to work immediately, while Goro kept himself huddled in the corner of the room. He hoped he wouldn’t be summoned just yet, he was still shaken. He looked down at his phone, swiping through apps to appear occupied. It seemed as though Takemi was performing some basic check-up with the way she kept herself so composed and light-hearted. Meanwhile, Goro couldn’t get the gruesome images of the interrogation room out of his mind. He’d close his eyes for a moment and he was back there— his gun pointed at Kurusu’s head. Not to mention, the guard— the man he _killed_. His palms were sweaty and he chewed on his lip. It was so much easier in the Metaverse. The end could justify the means when the means were hidden beyond his immediate vision. They were chains of events, sequences he started but didn’t have to finish. He hadn’t seen a real dead body, since his mother—

“Akechi, come here.”

He pocketed his phone and joined Takemi.

“I figured you’d be more useful giving some moral support than loitering around over there.” He thought to the gentle way Kurusu had asked him to stay earlier and realized that perhaps his presence was for the best. Also, she had a point, not that he wanted to admit it. From her perspective, Goro was one of Kurusu’s good little friends. He figured it was rather rude to try to escape him. He sighed. How was he supposed to provide support anyway? Should he put his hand on Kurusu’s shoulder? Or perhaps take his hand? Goro was thoroughly stumped, but he figured he should at least give it a try.

"I am here, to support you.” The room filled with an uncomfortable silence, so he decided it was best to shy away some. He hoped Kurusu would forget about this interaction due to being drugged, and that he’d never see the doctor again. "I will support you," he rephrased. No, that sounded worse somehow. 

“Anyways, I think I’ll start with your ribs.”

Kurusu nodded. He lifted his shirt and pushed away the ice pack to grant her access. Goro cringed, the bruising looked so painful, but Kurusu seemed to be putting on a brave face. There was no need for it, but he was stubborn. He was the kind of ridiculous person who’d rather conceal his agony from his friends than see their worried faces. Was it admirable or just plain stupid? Goro watched Takemi listen to his breathing; she prompted him to take deep breaths as she moved the stethoscope around his chest. “I’m going to touch your ribs now, expect some discomfort.”

Takemi gently pressed on Kurusu’s ribs and side. He hissed quietly but mostly held it together until she touched a particularly tender spot where the bruising was the worst. He cried out and began struggling against her with what little strength he had left. “I-I’ll confess, I-I said I…ngh,” he trailed off.

So he was still in that room too; Goro chewed on his lip until he tasted copper. “Hey,” he waved to get Kurusu’s attention. “Aren’t you going to let the Doctor do her job?” He knelt by the bed took his hand. “You’re such a pain in the ass.” He felt Kurusu relax a bit, maybe he was starting to get the hang of providing emotional support. 

Meanwhile, Takemi continued palpating; she hummed quietly in response to Kurusu’s reactions. When she touched sensitive spots he squeezed Goro’s hand, his nails digging into his skin. “I can’t tell for sure without taking any x-rays, but from inspecting your ribs, I think they are just badly bruised. You may have cracked one or two, but I don’t see any suggestion that they’re broken. You’ll just need to rest and restrict your activities. Ice will help with the swelling and pain, and I can prescribe some pain relievers.”

“Thanks, T-Tae.”

They were on a first-name basis? He felt a pang of jealousy, though Kurusu—or Akira did use his given name from time to time, it was mostly Goro who refused to address him in that way. Perhaps that should change.

“No need to thank me, I’m just doing my job.” Her cheeks were slightly flushed and she offered Ku—Akira a small suggestive smile. Was everyone head over heels for this nuisance of a human being? Though, he might have been just noticing things that weren’t there, for whatever reason.“I’m going to check your leg now.” She moved to the end of the bed and positioned herself between the wall, and Akira's lower half. 

Goro tightened his hold on his hand, offering him an awkward nod. He wasn't very good at comforting people, but the least he could do was try. The doctor got to work right away. She began palpating Akira’s thigh, feeling along the thick muscle. She was right to say it would be unpleasant; he groaned and writhed in pain the whole time.

"H-hurts..." He cried out. 

“I know, I know, I need to see if there’s any defect in the muscle.” She pressed along the center of the bruising, where it was darkest and most swollen. Akira whimpered and struggled hard against her. “Is this where it hurts the most?” She brushed her fingers over the area again.

He was shaking, one hand covering his eyes, the other squeezing Goro’s hand. “Y-yes, p-please stop t-touching.” He turned his head to muffle himself in the pillow.

Goro glared down at their entwined hands, a twinge of moisture building up in his eyes. "Is his leg broken?" 

Takemi shook her head. “It doesn't appear to be broken, but that doesn’t mean that this isn’t a serious injury. I have an ace bandage in my bag, use it to reduce the swelling. But for now, elevate your leg above your heart, and keep icing it for 20 minutes at a time. Akechi can you pass me my bag and that pillow?”

Goro complied, but as he listened to Takemi talk he couldn’t help but feel useless. It sounded like Akira would be out of commission for a while, and there was nothing he could do about it. He watched her place the bandages on the side table, then she carefully moved the pillow under his leg. "I'll leave these here for you tomorrow. Make sure you take it off and rewrap your leg a couple of times a day, and don't wrap it too tightly. If used correctly, it will reduce the swelling and hopefully help a bit with the pain." 

“How long will he be,” incapacitated, Goro wanted to say, “limiting his activities.” The Phantom Thieves needed his leadership and support, and so did Goro, though he’d never admit it aloud.

“A week at the minimum.” She hopped off the bed and crossed her arms. “I know what you guys are doing is important, especially now, but you should be prioritizing his health over whatever schemes you’re planning.”

Akira hummed in response to the conversation. His eyes were bleary, and he seemed ready to pass out. “Of course, I was only wondering. You know he is stubborn and won’t listen to reason.”

“Take care of him Akechi. I’ll check back in a week." 

“I will.”

She flashed him a smile, then bid them both farewell. 

* * *

Sojiro came back upstairs to check on Akira, the grim expression never leaving his face. "Dr. Takemi gave me the rundown. Do not hesitate to call me if you need anything, and I mean anything at all," he reiterated. "Do you want me to stay at the cafe tonight to keep an eye on you?" 

Akira shook his head. "I-I'll be okay, b-besides Goro is staying with me tonight."

Goro shot him a confused look. "I suppose I am." 

Sojiro nodded. "Great, because I doubt you'll be able to go to the bathroom, or get up or anything by yourself. If he's here, I feel more alright heading back to my place tonight." 

"I guess."  Goro snickered as Akira flushed and looked away. He was so embarrassed, it was adorable— no that wasn't the right word, was it?

"No need to worry Boss, I will take good care of him." 

Goro pushed the couch over so it was beside the bed. He wanted to make sure he could keep a close eye on Akira. He wasn't sure why he felt so paranoid, but they were dealing with Shido, so his worries were justified. He just wanted to keep Akira safe. They'd both been through a lot at the hands of his father, but neither was beyond repair. He stood over Akira, pulling the sheet and blanket over him, with gentle precision. He helped him readjust the pillows behind his back and head. "You'll have to sleep upright like this, because of your ribs," Goro said, his hand lingering on the pillow beside Akira's head. 

"Y-yeah I don't mind." 

Goro turned off the lights and got settled on the couch. He curled in on himself to fit, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as he imagined.

"I wasn't sure if y-you'd stay." 

"For some fucked up reason, I think I'd do anything for you Akira," Goro muttered, mostly under his breath. It was supposed to be sarcastic, but there was some truth behind it. Akira was something else. He was his rival, his foil— his only _friend_ , and Goro nearly killed him. He almost convinced himself that the ends could justify the means. He could tell himself his feelings were trivial, but when it mattered, the lies shattered in front of him, and he couldn't hurt the one he loved. 

"W-what was that?" 

"Nothing, just focus on healing, I never want to see you like this again." 

Akira didn't respond, but he definitely got the message. With that last exchange, Goro let his eyes shut. He readjusted on the couch and hesitantly allowed himself to drift off to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
